~ { Shadow and Beauty } ~

Cabin Nine

   "That old lady..." Leo said. "What's she doing here?"

   Will tried to follow his gaze. "What old lady?"

   "Dude, the old lady. The one in black. How many old ladies do you see over there?"

   Will frowned. "I think you've had a long day, Leo. The Mist could still be playing tricks on your mind. How about we head straight to your cabin now?"

   Leo wanted to protest, but when he looked back toward the big white cabin, Tía Callida was gone. He was sure she'd been there, almost as if thinking about his mom had summoned Callida back from the past. And that wasn't good, because Tía Callida had tried to kill him.

   "Just messing with you, man." Leo pulled some gears and levers from his pockets and started fiddling with them to calm his nerves. He couldn't have everybody at camp thinking he was crazy. At least, not crazier than he really was.

   "Let's go see Cabin Nine," he said. "I'm in the mood for a good curse."

From the outside, the Hephaestus cabin looked like an oversize RV with shiny metal walls and metal-slatted windows. The entrance was like a bank vault door, circular and several feet thick. It opened with lots of brass gears turning and hydraulic pistons blowing smoke.

   Leo whistled. "They got a steampunk theme going on, huh?"

   Inside, the cabin seemed deserted. Steel bunks were folded against the walls like high-tech Murphy beds. Each had a digital control panel, blinking LED lights, glowing gems, and interlocking gears. Leo figured each camper had his own combination lock to release his bed, and there was probably an alcove behind it with storage, maybe some traps to keep out unwanted visitors. At least, that's the way Leo would've designed it. A fire pole came down from the second floor, even though the cabin didn't appear to have a second floor from the outside. A circular staircase led down into some kind of basement.

   The walls were lined with every kind of power tool Leo could imagine, plus a huge assortment of knives, swords, and other implements of destruction. A large workbench overflowed with scrap metal—screws, bolts, washers, nails, rivets, and a million other machine parts. Leo had a strong urge to shovel them all into his coat pockets. He loved that kind of stuff. But he'd need a hundred more coats to fit it all.

   Looking around, he could almost imagine he was back in his mom's machine shop. Not the weapons, maybe—but the tools, the piles of scrap, the smell of grease and metal and hot engines. She would've loved this place.

   He pushed that thought away. He didn't like painful memories. Keep moving—that was his motto. Don't dwell on things. Don't stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.

   He picked a long implement from the wall. "A weed whacker? What's the god of fire want with a weed whacker?"

   A voice in the shadows said, "You'd be surprised."

   At the back of the room, one of the bunk beds was occupied. A curtain of dark camouflage material retracted, and Leo could see the guy who'd been invisible a second before. It was hard to tell much about him because he was covered in a body cast. His head was wrapped in gauze except for his face, which was puffy and bruised. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy after a beat-down.